Malibu Kisses
by smartcookie727
Summary: They were supposed to be at a hot springs. They were supposed to be drunk. They were supposed to be naked. But their getaway was cut short at "one more meeting". Shiro has a plan to remedy two of those things, and it requires Keith, the largest tub he's ever seen, and some coconut rum. Drunk and in love is a combination they know well, but tonight things get a little extra steamy.


Malibu was sweet—too sweet—but Keith didn't mind the sugary taste when he was licking it off Shiro's lips. Everything tasted better when it was stolen from his tongue. And, tonight, the menu consisted of rum, whiskey, and the most gorgeous man in the Garrison on his stomach beneath the sheets. That was, if Shiro could find his _surprise_ he'd so eagerly mentioned before.

They hadn't intended on staying so late at the Garrison, but one meeting always led to another for Shiro. Then, the MFEs had come knocking on Keith's door, and, regrettably, he'd be there to answer. Hours in the cockpit of a new fighter jet, simulator reprogramming, and several ass kickings doled out on the training deck later, he vowed never to make that mistake again.

All they'd wanted was a small getaway, but there was no such thing as a day off for the admiral _or_ the leader of Voltron. It wasn't surprising that their plans had fallen apart; what had been, was the way Shiro had welcomed him back to their room with a coconut kiss and the promise of something _special_. Immediately, Keith had dropped his bag, grabbed his own poison of choice, and let a giggling Shiro tug him out the door.

It didn't take long for the pair to sneak along the hallways of the Atlas or for Keith to catch up to Shiro's level of inebriation. With a bottle of whiskey in one hand and Shiro's fingers laced in the other, he let himself be dragged past room after room he didn't recognize. Though, at the rate they were going, maybe Shiro was a little too tipsy to remember _where_ his surprise actually was.

Keith reached his hand out to grasp Shiro's shoulder, ready to steer him back to their room and their nice, soft bed, or at least a closet for a little quick privacy, when Shiro made the smallest gasp of joy.

Metal fingers against his chest tilted Keith's world on its axis. Their feet tangled together, sending him stumbling toward the floor and his back into a door. Shiro crowded around him, held him up—so close he could barely breathe.

Apparently, they'd arrived at their destination.

Keith hardly had a thought to spare about where they'd ended up, though, with the way Shiro was looking down at him, cheeks flushed with that perfect shade of pink he would do anything for.

He raised a hand to caress Keith's face, twisting and twirling his fingers through dark locks. "I really wanted to go -hic-"

"I know, love, I know."

It was neither of their faults that their plans for a little getaway hadn't panned out, still, that knowledge couldn't help ease the bitter disappointment. Sweet coconut rum, on the other hand, seemed to be doing the trick for Shiro.

"We've been planning this for so -hic-" Shiro tossed his head back, laughing at their mutual bad luck. "Iverson just _had_ to have an extra two hour meeting after the three hour war council we'd just finished. He didn't even want to let us break ten minutes for coffee, but I made sure he knew that it was—"

"Coffee or mutiny," Keith said, mimicking Shiro's voice. He might have more than a slight caffeine addiction, and Keith didn't have the heart to deny him. If Shiro wasn't careful, though, '_coffee or mutiny'_ would become the Garrison's newest favorite axiom.

"That's right. Coffee or mutiny. It could've easily been a two sentence email, Keith, -hic- a two sentence _email_." He dragged the word out with disdain, chasing it with another sip from the tropical bottle.

Keith wound his arms around Shiro's neck, gently rubbing circles into the back of his head. "I'm sorry, Shiro. I ended up having to work too," he offered, hoping to ease the tension that visibly pulsated around him. "Even if it hadn't been for Iverson, you know the MFEs would have still pulled me away."

"Yeah, but they grabbed you cause you were _here_ and not half naked in a hot spring where we _should_ have been—where we _would_ have been if not for—" He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning into Keith's touch. "I'm Admiral, right? I should get time to do the things I want too. All we asked for was twelve hours. Not even a full day! "

Keith took a swig from his own bottle. "That's not how it works, and you know it." He tightened his hold and pulled Shiro down into a long kiss. "Now, _Admiral_," he breathed, voice turning dark and husky, "what's this _surprise_ you've brought me all this way for?"

"Well," Shiro mused, tracing his thumb along Keith's jaw, "when I got home, and _you_ were gone, I was so very _sad_. Not only were our plans ruined, but my loving boyfriend wasn't even there to take me in his arms and help me relax after a long day."

Keith drummed his fingers along the back of his neck, waiting to see where Shiro was going with this. He was guilty of more than a little dramatic flare when he was buzzed.

"So I found a solution to my problems."

"You always do, golden boy."

That earned him a laugh. "I've been working with the Atlas, you know? She's surpassed every standard we can even conceive of, and we've still only just scratched the surface of what she can do. There's so many _fascinating_ things we have left to discover." He pressed a knee between Keith's legs, pushing him up harder against the door. "Like this room that just happened to appear this evening. _That_ took care of one problem, and the rum from my office took care of the other. All I needed was to wait for you to get home." A little gasp escaped Keith's lips as Shiro leaned in closer. "Wanna see?"

"Yes," he breathed, cheeks flush with heat and whiskey.

"Consider this our own little hot spring, baby."

In a deft movement, Shiro swung open the door and ushered him inside. A large bathroom sprawled before them, clean cut with cream marble and a sparkling chandelier overhead. Hints of mahogany and lavender filled the air, and there was an entire cabinet stuffed floor to ceiling with plush towels, oils, soaps, and every bath accessory Keith could imagine. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith spied a king sized bed in what appeared to be an adjoining bedroom. The crown jewel, though, was the extra large aquamarine tub in the center of the room that looked more like a pool than a place to wash.

"Is your man great or what?" he whispered against Keith's ear in that deep and sultry register he knew sent shivers down his spine.

"He _is_. And he must really want to soak, too. I thought he just wanted to get me naked for the fun reasons."

Shiro cupped his ass and gave it a squeeze. "He wants that too. Patience. Right now, he just wants to see you out of those clothes."

Quirking an eyebrow, Keith sauntered over to a bench along the wall and set his bottle down. He removed his boots without so much as a trace of urgency and stretched out, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"How about a little help?"

Fire burned in Shiro's eyes as he cocked his head to the side. "Too sore from all that training to do it yourself? Or do you just want to be taken care of?" he teased, inching closer.

Keith held up a foot, pushing back lightly against his chest.

"Both. Though, now that I think about it, maybe I'd like a little show too, _Admiral_. You first."

A devilish grin spread across Shiro's face, and he took another swig of coconut rum.

"I think we can arrange that."

Shiro walked a few steps back, refusing to break eye contact, and ever so slowly, popped button after button on his black uniform. It fell from his shoulders, landing in a rumpled mess his feet. All bare skin and scars, Keith was half tempted to cut things short and pull him into the other room, but Shiro was puffed out like a peacock and loving every second of it. He stretched his arms overhead, carefully turning to demonstrate just how many hours he'd been putting in at the gym lately. Then, biting his lower lip, he bent down to grab the garment. It went flying over his shoulder, sailing with a finger gun arrow straight to Keith's heart.

He caught it, shedding his own red jacket and loosely replacing it with Shiro's. A soft smile spread across Keith's lips. It smelled like him—like mahogany with a touch of vanilla—like home. Flitting his gaze up, he caught a sly wink as Shiro lifted one foot up into the counter. The other stretched out behind him in a lunge, and he began to unlace his boot.

Keith whistled appreciatively at the sight. He couldn't tell who was having more fun with this whole thing: him or Shiro.

Repeating the motion with the other boot, Shiro sank a little lower, surprisingly more flexible than usual. He was going to have to test just how much more later that night.

Clad only in his skin-tight uniform pants, Shiro slowly made his way over to one of the shelves piled high with flowery smelling liquids and salts. He swung his hips back and forth as he walked, calculated and teasing, and Keith fought every terrible instinct to drool.

He sat there for what felt like hours, just watching Shiro leaf through the various bottles and jars at his disposal—painfully beautiful and painfully indecisive.

Keith clicked his tongue. "Gonna make a choice sometime this century, or should I get a cryopod ready?"

"It's a show, baby. You asked for it," Shiro said dryly, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder. He did give a little extra flex to muscles, and Keith silently promised he'd make him regret those words.

Crossing his legs, Keith drummed his fingers along the bench. Loudly. He kept his eyes trained on Shiro as he finally turned to face him. Grinning, Shiro turned a small bottle over between his fingers, and Keith cursed his Pavlovian response to whine. Electricity crackled between them. Shiro strode forward for a few heated steps, but, when he was just within reach, diverted his path towards the tub.

Keith cocked an eyebrow.

"It's bubble bath," he snickered, bending over to pour the clear gel into the tub.

Damn the Garrison for making standard issue pants that tight.

Not to mention, his were a bit _tight_ now, too. Keith groaned, shimmying them off, and chucked the offending material at Shiro. It hit him square in the back of the head. Shiro almost toppled in, and Keith smirked as he whipped his gaze back at him, expression transitioning from bewilderment, to curiosity, and finally settling on intrigue. He chuckled and tossed Keith a wink, resuming his inspection of the bath. Keith huffed in response, turning his attention to the ceiling in a not-so-silent concession to wait.

Metal fingers brushed against Keith's hip, giving his waistband a snap, and he jolted forward. Shiro's prosthetic worked its way up his chest and into his hair, massaging at his nape. A smile pulled at Keith's lips. Shiro loved to give each and every piece of him attention, and he was more than willing to indulge.

He closed his eyes and allowed the hand explore his body, gently stripping him of the rest of his clothes. Keith groaned as it ghosted over his abdominals. He wanted more—wanted Shiro to touch him in earnest until they were bruised and breathless. Thoughts grew clouded in the haze of his want. He couldn't hear the bath filling anymore. Truthfully, Keith couldn't hear anything anymore but the sound of his own moans as they escaped his lips.

A warm presence crowded his space, leaving heated tracks along his skin. His eyes, dark purple and blown wide, fluttered open.

"Hey there, baby."

Keith surged forward, grabbing the back of Shiro's neck and pulling him down into a crushing kiss.

"You enjoy the show?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I did," Keith murmured, desperately tearing off the last of Shiro's clothes. "But this is better."

They lost themselves in the exchange of tongue and spit and breath, drunk on the taste of desire. Keith dug his fingers into the freshly bared skin, rolling up into Shiro's touch and practically begging him for more. Cold air accosted him as Shiro pulled away. Keith whimpered, indignant, chasing the heat he craved.

Shiro dropped to his knees.

Strong hands grasped the underside of Keith's thighs, and every muscle in his body quaked as he placed a kiss against the sensitive skin. With a grunt, he hefted Keith into his arms and made his way towards the tub.

Shiro's breath was hot on his neck as he eased them into the water. He settled onto a carved out ledge against the side of the tub and released his grip on Keith's legs. Draping his elbows over the edges, Shiro sighed long and low.

This was what he'd wanted.

Keith let himself drift, floating until he could no longer reach Shiro with his toes. It was peaceful, quiet. Somehow, they'd found an oasis in the midst of a war camp. He would've liked to just float there for days if he could, but there was a more pressing matter at present, and it was pressing against his stomach.

Dipping his head below the water, Keith scoured the lingering thoughts of impending battle from his mind. This was not the time. He inhaled deep as he stood and shook droplets of water from his hair. Scanning around the tub, he spotted Shiro. His eyes were closed and he was sporting a smile from ear to ear. Not for the first time that night, Keith thought about how he might just be the luckiest man alive.

However, this was also not the time for a nap.

He skidded his hand rhythmically across the surface of the water, creating waves that crested and broke over Shiro's face. Piercing silver eyes zeroed in on him, and Keith's face split into a crooked smile.

"This tub is the size of our old shack. Did you really need to make it this big?"

Shiro countered with an easy shrug. "I have my reasons." Languidly, he tracked the line of Keith's body down to the water. Sparks flashed in his eyes, and he curled his index finger in a silent command.

Keith obliged, closing the space between them quickly.

"So," he breathed, sliding a knee against either side of Shiro's hips, "is this what you had in mind?"

"Yes." The word came out thick and sweet like honey, and although Keith liked a little more bite, he would gladly lap up every ounce of sugar.

Shiro pulled him in close, running his hands up and down his body like it was his ultimate purpose in life. He was so warm, so solid beneath him, and Keith wanted those hands to tear him apart and put him back together. He let Shiro move him as he pleased, responding to every brush of skin. Blissful and unaware.

Water splashed over his face, and Keith sputtered, gasping for air. His eyes flew open. He was no longer poised over Shiro's lap, ready to make them both squirm and scream with pleasure. Far from it. Now, he faced the opposite direction, nestled on the underwater bench between Shiro's legs. He looked up, burning accusation in his eyes, only to be met with a soft smile.

"But," Shiro sighed, kissing the side of his neck, "I'm not about to let this bath go to waste. Relax, baby. Enjoy yourself."

Keith snorted. He was enjoying himself; it just had more to do with the naked man at his back than the water. Still, he knew how to play the long game. He'd learned from the best how to be patient, and patience always yielded him a reward.

Easing against Shiro's chest, Keith closed his eyes. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and they sat there, basking in the warmth of the water, the floral scents, and the press of skin. It helped soothe the deep ache in Keith's muscles. His day had been a blur of drills with Voltron, teaching cadets, one _quick_ tour of a uniform closet after lunch, waves of robots on the training deck, and an extra three hours fine tuning the controls and programming in the Ares simulator. Keith was tired as hell, and tipsy was just a spec in his rear-view mirror. Maybe, he needed this more than he cared to admit.

"Ya know, this might actually be better than the springs," he said, startling the silence that had enveloped them.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

Shiro's fingers curled through his hair. "How?"

"Well," he mused, stretching his arms up and lacing them around Shiro's neck, "would we have gotten this drunk if we'd gone?"

"Yes." Shiro drew out the word, almost teasing. His breath was warm against Keith's ear, and it made his toes curl.

Chuckling, he turned in Shiro's lap. "Would we be this naked?"

"Yes."

"Would they appreciate the two of us not being able to take our hands off each other in the pool?"

Shiro was silent a moment too long.

"Well then, I consider this a win. Cause here, no one can tell me not to touch you." Keith's voice reverberated with a sound more akin to a growl than his usual stardust. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, and he pounced.

He began with Shiro's chest. His hands roamed over the expanse of skin, tweaking spots Keith knew would drive him wild. Under his fingertips, the beat of Shiro's pulse spiked, and an appreciative rumble tore through his chest. Perfect. Keith watched hungrily as Shiro tried to exhale through his nose in a futile attempt to calm his senses, but Keith knew his body better than his own. And Shiro's praised patience had begun to crack.

Tender and slow, Keith placed open mouthed kisses up the length of his collarbone. The barest whine broke Shiro's lips before strong hands wrapped around his waist and dragged them both underwater.

Damn. He'd shown his hand too early. But, Keith knew a thousand ways to take Shiro apart, he just needed to find the right one. This time, they ended up seated sideways, legs draped over one another.

Lips brushed the side of Keith's neck. "Patience, baby. Pamper first, fuck after."

Keith groaned and splashed the water with his foot.

"You have the cutest scowl," Shiro said, ruffling his hair. He paused for a moment, then began to massage Keith's scalp, gently moving his neck back and forth. A rumbling purr rose unbidden from his throat. "You're just like the wolf, ya know?" Keith tilted his head to the side. "You'll do anything for a few scritches."

"Not a bad thing," he countered, trying to hold the laughter under his breath and punched Shiro in the arm.

"No, indeed."

Keith smiled and his eyes lit up like the stars.

"I love it when you look like this," Shiro said, continuing to rub circles into his crown. "Love that _I _can make you look like this."

"Love to _pamper_ me?" he teased.

"Yes."

His words were a truth Keith had to remind himself wouldn't slip away. So much had before, but Shiro, he was a solid tether, and he wanted to love a messed up little punk like him with every fiber of his being.

"We don't get enough time like this, definitely won't once we launch."

Keith sighed, leaning into him. "Yeah. Gotta defend the universe, right?"

The universe in all it's never-ending mystery. Always on the precipice of destruction with only a handful crazy humans in magic robotic lions to keep it stitched together. It had been his life for so many years now. It could be the rest of his life. The end of his life. He'd run along that razor thin edge far too many times, and one person had only so much luck before the ground fell out from under him. Right? Well, that had already happened anyways, so what the fuck did he know? Nothing. They knew nothing, and it was eating away at the edges of his sanity.

"Baby, come back."

The words wrapped around his consciousness as something soft pressed against his ear. Lips. Mahogany. Vanilla.

Shiro.

Keith gasped. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Too many thoughts were flying through his head. Too many images he wanted to forget. Too many faces. Too many names. He exhaled just like Shiro had taught him to, so long ago at the Garrison. One, two, three, four, five. Wait. Inhale. Repeat. The fog thinned from his mind. Sniffling, Keith let his head fall against the warm chest behind him.

"You all back?" Shiro asked delicately, placing another kiss against the shell of his ear.

"Yeah," he murmured. "It's just—unnerving. We know so little about what's waiting for us out there. Nearly got gutted when we fought that one Altean robeast. There could be a whole fleet standing by. I don't know if we'll be able to—"

"Shh, Keith," he crooned, kissing his neck, "we can't worry about the things we can't control. We have Voltron—the best version of Voltron—with the best leader I know."

"Shiro," Keith groaned, "I'm not—"

"It's true, baby, you're amazing." He nosed at his hair. "You are exactly what this team needs to succeed, and the only one I'd trust to keep everyone safe in my stead. You care so much. You don't give up." He sighed. "We keep evolving, overcoming the obstacles ahead of us. Yeah, the future is uncertain, but we can't worry about that right now."

Keith burrowed into his chest and scoffed. "I don't understand how you can be so chill about it, Shiro."

"It's because I have you," he said, gently squeezing his shoulder. "Because I know that no matter what happens out there, I'll always find my way back to you." His fingers drifted down the sharp line of Keith's jaw and tilted his chin. Warm lips pressed against his own.

Reluctantly, Keith broke their kiss and captured every fiber of Shiro's being in his gaze. "I'm not losing you again, Takashi." Never again. He'd rip the fabric of space and time to shreds before he ever let that happen again. Shiro was his home, and they'd both drifted alone in this universe for far too long. His eyes softened. "I'll put you on a chain if I have to."

Shiro whistled low, wiggling his eyebrows. "Maybe later."

"It's the good boys that are always the kinkiest," Keith said, poking him in the chest and darting out his tongue.

"And the bad boys are always the neediest," Shiro returned. His hand glided over Keith's thigh, and it pulled a whine from deep within his chest.

"Maybe I wouldn't be so needy if my boyfriend would fuck me already."

"Patience, baby." But there seemed to be a disconnect between his words and his hands. They'd moved up his thigh and were now perched on the soft swell of Keith's ass. "I don't want this nice bath me and Atlas made to not get used to its fullest potential. We worked so _very_ hard, and you look like you need a little more relaxing before I fuck you so good you sleep through training tomorrow morning."

"That's some big talk."

Shiro circled him with a finger, and Keith's body shuddered with pent-up desire. "On my honor." Keith groaned, tried to grind down onto him, but Shiro was careful not to give him an inch. "You want me, baby?"

Sweat dripped down Keith's throat. He was was breathing hard, worked up, and couldn't form a coherent thought if the universe depended on it. Every witty remark he knew died on his tongue as Shiro teased his rim again. So he let his body speak instead. He was a man of action, not words.

Keith pressed forward until they were flush together, and, God, did Shiro want this as bad as he did. He could _feel_ it. But that damn patience of his was still holding strong. Luckily, Keith knew exactly how to chip away at his defenses.

Perking his ass out, he stood. Water dripped down the long lines of his body, leaving glistening trails in their wake. He looked magnificent, and he knew it. Keith took his own nipple in hand, rolling and teasing it until it stood hardened and alert, then he fisted a handful of Shiro's forelock with the other and sent him on a one way collision course to his abdomen.

Shiro groaned as he made contact, eagerly placing messy kisses up and down Keith's stomach from his seat below. His breathing hitched, and the soft touch of lips shifted to the sharp bite of teeth.

"You make it so hard," Shiro gasped, chest heaving against him, "for me to say no. But—" In an all too familiar flash, he gripped onto Keith's hips and pulled them both under the water. "You're gonna have to do better than that to break me."

"Duly noted," Keith sighed, shaking droplets from his hair. But he didn't mind. Because, the game was afoot, and he knew how to play.

A sudden swell crashed over him, and Keith unceremoniously toppled back into the water. He cursed under his breath. The dunking was getting a little excessive at this point. Shiro offered him a hand, laughing like he was having the time of his life, but, instead of responding with a patented Kogane smart-ass remark and cool stare, fissures formed in Keith's exasperated facade. He couldn't even complain. He loved Shiro like this. With a smile plastered across his face, he looked less troubled than a man with as many scars as he did possibly could.

"Well," Keith said, nonchalant, "if we aren't going to get a little dirtier anytime soon, at least hand me something to wash with." As if he couldn't help it, Shiro sniffed the and wrinkled his nose. "Hey, you didn't give me a chance to freshen up—you just said 'grab a drink and follow me, baby, I got a special surprise for you'—and I've spent the last few hours in a simulator and on the training deck." Keith laughed, running his hands through his hair. "Or would you prefer it if I was stinky? Would you like that ba—"

Shiro thrust bottle of shampoo at him. "No. Wash."

Keith snickered and took it, squeezing a bit into his and a bit into Shiro's hair. His eyebrows furrowed together until they practically formed a single line and his jaw parted slightly.

"Both. I don't know where you've been. You could be dirty," he teased, stepping closer. Keith massaged the gel into his scalp until it foamed. "I'll do yours if you do mine."

Shiro cocked an eyebrow and rinsed out the suds. "Sit down then."

Keith wiggled and did as he was told. Rolling his eyes, Shiro began to work Keith's hair into a lather. A sloppy smile spread across his face. It felt nice to be cared for—and to be clean. Shiro handed him a bar of soap, and Keith turned, repaying the little show he'd so eagerly put on before. When he was finished, and Shiro's entire face was a light shade of pink, Keith climbed into his lap and smoothed the soap over his skin. Contented hums filled the room as he worked. Keith smiled; Shiro looked so relaxed, so happy.

Gently, he tugged him down to the water's surface. Shiro's arms spread out until he was floating on his back, troubles rolling off him like waves. Keith pulled him out into the middle of the tub. He was beautiful, his eyes, his voice, the way his lips curled up into a smile, down to every last scar. With a tender touch, Keith began to trace over them with his lips.

Each was a solemn reminder of pain, of perseverance, of the peace they fought for. He loved them all—because Shiro had survived. They were bookmarks etched into his skin, and Keith knew every story. Starting at the beginning, he read over his chapters, working his way up to his mouth. Their lips parted, and Shiro gazed up at him like Keith was every star in his universe.

"Do you know how much I love you, Shiro?"

"To the moon and back?" he asked, chuckling to himself.

"The moon isn't so far away. Try again."

He smirked. "To...Kerberos and back, then? "

"Ha, that's a start," Keith conceded, running his hand under Shiro's chin, "try to the next reality and back. I've done it, you know."

"I was _there_, Keith." Lifting a finger to either side of his head, he mimed a lion's roar.

"Yeah, and you had the weirdest accent." He grinned, poking at his cheek. "It was cute, though. And, damn, did you have a nice spacesuit over there, really showed off your _assets_."

Shiro snorted. "Don't be drooling over an alternate reality me when the original is right here."

"_Clone_," Keith teased, dragging out the vowels.

Shiro grabbed the back of his legs under the water and stood. "It's almost like you don't want to get fucked tonight, baby."

In general, Shiro was an imposing figure, but when he was barely a breath away, closing into Keith's space like a predator that's caught his prey, he looked downright ferocious. It made Keith's heart lurch forward. He wanted Shiro to sink into him and never let go. But his silver eyes were narrowed, dangerous, and a wicked smile stretched across his face. A fraction of a second too late, Keith realized he hadn't removed his hands from his hips.

"Don't you dare, you—," Keith tried to scream, but he was already being pulled under the water, tickled mercilessly until tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Like a feral animal, he splashed at Shiro, kicking him playfully until they were both out of breath. They wrestled back and forth until they hit the edge of the tub. Keith's sides burned as he laughed. Driving his crown into Shiro's shoulder, he landed a tickle fight ending blow, and they collapsed against the carved out bench together, smiling, happy.

Feather-light, Shiro brushed a stray strand of jet black hair behind his ear. His gaze was warm, almost protective, and it made Keith feel treasured beyond belief. Catching his breath, he threaded their fingers together and ran soothing strokes under Keith's palm. It was subtle, but Keith understood every silent word.

_I'd claim you, too. If we can both make it out of this alive, in a heartbeat, I'll make you mine._

Keith squeezed his hand and watched as Shiro's eyes shimmered, blinking back something that looked suspiciously like a tear. They'd never needed words to understand each other.

With a sigh, Shiro broke their stare and sent his prosthetic flying out to retrieve the Malibu from the counter. He took a long swig of the clear liquid and smiled. Keith narrowed his eyes at him. The man had saved the universe a few times over now, he guessed he was allowed one flaw.

"Thirsty?" Shiro asked.

"No, way," he scoffed, nodding at the tropical bottle, "stuff's pure sugar."

Shiro shifted until he was cradling Keith's head in his hand. "And _you_ have a sweet tooth."

"Only when it comes to _you_."

He nearly barked with laughter. "Let's leave the body shots for another night."

Keith wiggled his eyebrows and sat up, but Shiro nudged his shoulder with the bottle of whiskey.

"How thoughtful." He accepted the peace offering. Still eyeing him, Keith took a sip then placed it to the side of the tub. "That magic hand really comes in...handy, huh?"

"Yeah," Shiro replied, shrugging his shoulder. There was a deep flush in his cheeks and an easy smile on his face. It was the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

"You know," he mused, dropping his voice down into a register that would drill holes in Shiro's foundation, "that's not the only reason I think you have magic hands."

Shiro's eyebrows lifted clear into space as Keith stood, stretching, showing off his taut muscles.

"You give the best massages, love," he said, turning around to sit in front of him, slightly bent forward. "Would you do my back? I think it would _really_ help me relax after the long, hard day I've had." Innuendo dripped with every word, but Keith kept his face all innocence and smiles, flashing him the barest of pouts.

Shiro snickered but obliged, sending his arm to fetch the massage oil from the cabinet. "Anything for you, baby. Just relax."

Warmth spread across his back as Shiro smoothed the oil across his skin. Keith sighed a little too loud, and Shiro's hands tensed for half a breath. Then, he began to rub. Closing his eyes, Keith thanked his every lucky star for Shiro; he had the hands of a God, and damn, did he know how to use them. All knots would eventually bend beneath his will, and there was no muscle nor ache he could not ease.

Moans tore from his lips each time Shiro focused on a new part of his back. He worked his body rough, and it left Keith panting and needy. Eventually, his hands began to linger, languidly tracing up and down his spine. Keith breathed in deep. He craved his touch—would gladly have Shiro explore his body with abandon—but he had to keep his head. Those hands were wandering, and, if he played it smart, their test of wills would finally end.

Slowly, Keith took himself in hand and began to pull long, even strokes along his length. Shiro snorted behind him, but he disregarded the implication.

"You said to relax, _Commander_. I'm just following orders." Shiro's fingers twitched at the title and snuck around to join him, but Keith brushed them away. "Focus, please." His voice lilted with a sing-song air, and he leaned forward a little more.

Begrudgingly, Shiro began again.

Keith smiled to himself. Never underestimate the powerful need Shiro had to care for him or the ensuing frustration if said need was denied.

Keith moved his fist faster, arched his back harder, and, more often than not, had to bat away a wandering touch. Shiro was relentless in his attempts to place a hand where he didn't need to be massaged but could make Keith moan all the same.

Always a step ahead, Keith countered every move, never allowing him more than a brush of fingertips. He'd made himself a promise earlier that night to make Shiro regret initiating the long game—regret every sudden dunk under the water—and he was here to collect. There was a new roughness in the way Shiro dug his fingers into his skin, and Keith knew he was losing his cool.

Adjusting as Shiro darted his hands around him again, he forced him to focus on the task at hand. He was close to breaking, and Keith knew exactly how to land the final blow. With a groan, he began to buck his hips in short, quick movements. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, and a rush of triumph spurred him on. Keith picked up the pace, lightly bumping against Shiro at the end of every thrust. He let himself be loud, each noise that escaped his throat more drawn out and needy than the last.

Suddenly, fingers gripped Keith's hips and held him in place. With shaking hands, Shiro traced along the muscle at the small of Keith's back. Direct hit.

Sighing, Keith dropped his head onto Shiro's shoulder, exposing his neck. "Feels so good," He purred. There was a tell-tall glazed over look in Shiro's eyes, and Keith knew he'd won.

"Shiro," he whined.

"Yeah, baby?" he asked, voice was raspy with want.

Keith scooted back, angling his ass up ever so slightly. "I'm still a little tight in one spot. Think you could help loosen me up?"

"Fuck, yes, Keith."

_Finally._

Before he could tout his victory, Keith was being flipped over, hips pressed into the tub. Shiro wasted no time. He grabbed a bottle of slick and coated his fingers liberally. Keith shuddered as he licked a hot stripe down his neck.

"You just had to be a little minx tonight, huh, baby?" Shiro whispered, tugging Keith's earlobe with his teeth.

He craned his neck, fixing Shiro with a devious look. "You started it." Nails dug into the swell of Keith's ass, and he groaned. "Just had to play the long game." Sweat dripped down his temple. "This is all on you, _baby__._"

Shiro pressed a kiss just behind the corner of his jaw, sucking at his pulse. "And you're gonna be so good for me from now on, aren't ya?"

Metal fingers circled around Keith's rim and slowly teased him open.

He keened. "_Yes._"

Gently, Shiro nuzzled his cheek, then curled his fingers inside him so hard Keith had to struggle to breathe.

"Good." In a swift movement, Shiro removed his fingers and coated his length thoroughly. He placed a kiss to Keith's nape, lining himself up, then slowly eased inside.

Keith gasped at the sudden pressure. No matter how many times they were together, he could never get over how wonderful that initial, deep stretch from Shiro's cock felt. It was like he was burning from the inside out, and Shiro was gasoline to his fire.

Breathing in deep, Keith relaxed around him. Shiro was nearly saddled to the hilt. He tweaked a nipple, and Keith's entire body quaked. Wicked laughter came from behind him, then Shiro began to thrust.

Spots danced across Keith's vision as he moved. He set a punishing pace, tearing him apart more quickly than normal. Just how Keith liked it. He knew he'd riled Shiro up pretty well with that last stunt, but this was more than just a product of his teasing. They stood on the edge of a precipice, and this was their claim.

Shiro's hands grabbed his hips, pulling Keith flush against his chest. Their lips crashed together in a desperate tangle of emotion they could not express any other way. Keith moaned again and again as Shiro bucked into him. His nerves crackled and sparked. Every slide threatened to break him in two, and Keith grew pliant under his touch. Shiro angled himself upward slightly, stroking along his prostate. Keith barely muffled the ensuing scream.

"God, I love you," Shiro murmured, pounding into him harder.

His veins coursed with pleasure. Keith smiled weakly from below, unable to form a single coherent word.

"Love your body. Love the way you feel against me. Love that I know exactly what noise you'll make when I do this." He thumbed over the head of Keith's cock and thrust up simultaneously. His scream ripped through the air, and Keith sank a little lower, panting. "Love that you take all of me. God, Keith. You're amazing."

Teeth bit down onto his shoulder. Keith swore he could see galaxies sprawl out in front of him.

Collapsing forward onto the tile, he mumbled, "Want you to—"

Shiro bucked into him again. "What was that, baby?" He slipped a few finger's into Keith's mouth, and he sucked them greedily. "Is this what you've been wanting all night—for me to fuck you senseless?"

Keith nodded his head 'yes'.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes!" he screamed.

Capturing Keith's lips in a kiss, he whispered, "Good."

A warm hand wrapped around Keith's length, and he thrust up into it wildly. Their bodies slapped together in a fervid need for friction and release. Every nerve ending was maxed out on pleasure. Keith moaned and clawed at Shiro, lost to the erratic jolting of his hips. Shiro's breathing was heavy as he pumped Keith mercilessly, dragging him over his edge.

It surged through Keith like a tidal wave, punching the air out of his lungs. Shortly after, Shiro crested with his own release. He cried out his name; sweaty, glistening, and blissed out beyond belief.

Spent, they floated back, hands clasped together.

"Think they would've let us do _that_ in the hot springs?" Keith asked, breathless.

"We would not have been asked to return."

Laughter settled over both of them.

"I think this was better, all things considered."

Shiro sighed in agreement. "One day we'll go." There was a far off wistfulness in his voice, like a memory just out of reach.

"I promise, love. One day we'll go," Keith crooned, pulling him out of the tub. Gently, he placed a kiss to the edge of Shiro's jaw. Tension eased from his face, but before he could speak, Keith tapped his nose.

Snickering, he turned on his heel and grabbed a towel from the rack on the wall. Keith dried them both off, giving every inch of Shiro's body attention.

"Now, _Admiral_, it's my turn to pamper you," he said, ruffling the towel through his hair. "My hands are magic too, ya know." Keith pulled him down to whisper in his ear, "On your stomach and on the bed."

Lightning flashed in the silver of Shiro's eyes, and it sent a shiver racing up Keith's spine.

"Yes, _sir_."


End file.
